Enough
by Caliente
Summary: one-shot vignette set after Ellis's Storm LS –– That's what he does—survives. But he doesn't need. Or he didn't before... before he met her. She is everything he doesn't understand. –– weather goddess Storm as seen by the soldier called Cable


**Author's Note: **All right ladies and gents, it's that time again. Another sappy 'ship one-shot, this time starring… well, I guess you'll just have to read and figure it out, won't you? Basically, this is set around X-Men #60ish, continuity-wise (we have that?) and fits between the panels nicely, IMHO. It's Ellis-inspired, so feel free to blame him, not me and, well… yeah. Just a mushy-ish li'l one-shot of joy in a new writing style for me! It's good times. Really.  
**Disclaimer: **Own something? What are you – crazy? I'm a college student!

**Enough**  
by, Caliente

He doesn't understand it. This feeling. This longing. This need. He hasn't needed anything in a long time. At least, that's what he tells himself. He's been a soldier in his own private war for more years than he cares to remember. He's seen things… _done_ things no man should ever have to do. He's survived it all. That's what he does – survives. But he doesn't need. Or he didn't… before…

Before he met _her_. She is everything he doesn't understand. How can they be so similar and so different at the same time? Their fights, their struggles, their lives… Similar yet different. An odd sort of dichotomy that he does not, or perhaps cannot, understand. They are like opposite sides of the same coin. A ying and a yang. An Xavier and a Magneto.

Her best friend told him once that he reminds her of her. He didn't understand, then, how that was possible. She was still just an unknown to him. Just a name, a face, a power, a smell (sandalwood)… And once he thought her gone, the not knowing her – that had bothered him. Not because of their similarities or differences but, rather, that he'd never been given the opportunity to try and understand for himself.

He did find out, though, for all the good it's done him. He might know her now but she is still an enigma in so many ways. And he can't help himself – he is still curious. She is like an addiction but a million times more intoxicating than any drug. He isn't sure what it means, exactly, but he knows that he needs to find out. It's the need that bothers him, even now.

It's hard for him. She's magical, dancing through their lives in a way that makes his head spin. He doesn't know what to think. What to do. But he does know that she's spoken for. By a good man – a man who deserves her far more than he ever could. He is another soldier who has fought in many wars on many battlefields. Never for want but because it's his sworn duty.

They all have their duties, he supposes. Their wars to fight. He can respect that in a man. In her man. But know this, being his friend… it makes it that much harder. That much harder to not look up when he smells her scent just before she enters the room. To not smile when she smiles at him. To remain stoic and calm and never allow her the knowledge of this power she holds over him.

Not because he doesn't trust her – he does. And for him, that is saying quite a lot. No, it's himself that he does not trust. It would be too difficult, he tells himself. It is already difficult enough, living in the mansion with her. He's taken to wandering the grounds at night (Never the woods, though. Their occupant would not be appreciative.) just to try and gain peace of mind. Or perhaps regain a piece of mind.

That is where she finds him. He senses her presence long before she arrives (and he is suddenly very aware of both blessings and burdens of his powers – another dichotomy). The winds she floats so gracefully on bring her scent of sandalwood wafting above him. He knows her purpose is to find him. He also knows he could avoid her. He doesn't.

She lands beside him, falling into step with his relaxed pace easily. She's rarely, if ever, caught moving inelegantly, he's noticed. She's so unlike him in that aspect, too. He lumbers, she floats. He wields big guns, she wields the elements. He is hard where she is delicate. Scarred where she is beautiful. And she is beautiful.

They walk in silence for a few moments, neither willing to make the first move. Finally, she looks up at the sky. He follows her gaze. "It is a beautiful night," she says, eyes staying drawn on the stars for a long moment. It had been cloudy earlier. He wonders if she's responsible for the change in weather, either consciously or unconsciously.

"Yes, it is," he agrees, eyes drifting from the sky to her. "Very beautiful." He hastily looks away. To the path ahead. Always look ahead, is what he's been taught. He is fighting for a goal. That is what he does. But with her… what goals can there be? None, of course. There is team dynamic to consider, not to mention the fact that she's spoken for.

"I have called it off with Forge," she says abruptly, stopping in her tracks and looking at him. He stops too and meets her gaze. "I could not stay in a relationship with no future. Not after everything we have been through." She looks at him in a way that he has never seen her look at him before. "Mikhail made me realize the importance looking at things in the long term." And then she smiles. "You helped too."

Her tone is teasing but he remains stoic. Nothing has changed. "I'm sorry you and Forge couldn't make it work," he responds awkwardly. What else is there to say? He will go and personally apologize to him later. Not because of the guilt, though there is that, but because he has proven himself both a good friend and a good man.

"I am not," she responds bluntly. "I have loved him for a very long time and I always will. But we are too different. We are not heading in the same direction. Perhaps, we never were." She shrugs. "We were just lucky our paths crossed for as long as they did. But now, they have diverged. I was simply the one to recognize it first. He agrees it is for the best."

They are not heading in the same direction, either, he realizes. "I'm sure he feels the same way," he offers. What else is there for him to say? Nothing, except to ask the question that has been weighing on his mind since she uttered those seven words. So, he does. "So, what will you do now?" Admittedly, he has never been the most tactful or consoling person.

She smiles again. This smile, he does not know. "I do not know," she replies, eyes sparkling with life. He's sure he has never seen anyone look more beautiful. Not even his wife. "Isn't it wonderful?" She lifts herself a few inches off the ground and spins around slowly, arms held wide. "For the first time in a long time, I am free. Free to look forward."

He could join her in the air but he doesn't. This is her moment. Her dance. He is happy to just be in the audience. "And what do you see?" he asks, finally smiling too. He can be stoic later. In this moment, he will be happy because he is with her. And there is nowhere else on the planet he'd rather be. (Not during this time, anyway.)

"What do I see?" she repeats, cocking her right eyebrow up at him as her smile drifting lazily into a smirk. She's stopped spinning but remains in the air, her hands resting on her hips. There is something almost daring about the way she's looking at him. He doesn't know what it means. "Are you not the telepath here? Why don't you tell me?"

She's teasing him. In more than one way. It's at that moment that he realizes the truth. She knows. She's always known. And what she's saying to him… it is so much more than just a question. It's an offer. "I am," he replies with a nod. "But the Professor has taught me not to reach into others minds. And, besides, I'd much rather hear it from you." He can tease her too. It's only fair, after all.

There is the faintest blush on her cheeks visible in the starlight. "What I see," she tells him, "is a chance for new beginnings." It's not the answer he wants but it's the one she's willing to give. And that's okay. It's more than he thinks he deserves. She surprises him and leans forward and kisses him soundly on the lips. "And maybe more."

He touches his lips as he watches her arc up into the sky before landing expertly on the roof of the attic. Leaving the scent of sandalwood floating around him. The only sign she was ever there at all. That this wasn't just some glorious dream. There are still many questions, of course. Perhaps more. He doesn't understand why he needs her… but he knows he does.

And that's enough. Finally.

* * *

So… love it? Hate it? Wonder what I've been smoking (and where you can get some)? Lemme know! (But only if it's the first one. ;)) 


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